Monthly Archives: August 2015

At long last, my summer has come to an end (although I can’t be entirely sure of that yet, seeing as there’s still one day left…) and I have returned to college for my final semester. Moving in, as well as making arrangements for the student organization that I’m president of, have occupied most of my weekend, so for the second consecutive week there’s no real Sunday post. Rest assured, once I’ve settled in I’ll return to my usual update schedule. Until then, signing off!

Before I knew what I did, before the night that I found out the truth, I didn’t have to spend any effort to act normal. I was normal. I could treat the people around me as I always had.

Of course, once I knew what had happened–what had been kept from me–everything was different. I was walking on broken glass, slowly and carefully, trying my best not to slip and gash myself. Every time that I saw his crooked smile or heard one of his barking laughs, I tensed. I wanted to scream. How could you have done this? Why? Did you think it was your right? Or did you not stop to think at all?

A scream in your own head echoes louder and longer than any other scream can.

But I said nothing. I watched him continue on, as he always had, with no need to act normal. He was normal. For months, we lived in the same room without me speaking a word directly to him. I spent every free hour that I had in front of my desk–shutting out the sounds of him when he was there, ears filled with music that still wasn’t enough to drown out the echoing screams. Despite what I said, no amount of mental contortion was going to excuse him.

It was worse, though, when I was alone. It was no longer the comfortable solitude that allowed me to recover from a long day of classes. The room seemed emptier than usual, almost hollow despite the cluttered space. The quiet was so absolute that even the soft ticking of my pocket-watch, sitting on the desk beside me, could be distinctly heard.

I withdrew from social circles and merely went through the motions of attending class. I couldn’t focus with him a few seats over, continuing on as if nothing had happened. He didn’t need to act normal. He was normal. I skipped out on study sessions that he might be attending. I failed the final exam of one of the classes we shared, and only the excellent grades that I’d had for the first half of the semester prevented me from having to repeat the class.

Final exams ended for him, and he left with his usual jaunty confidence. I had found that aspect of his personality amusing, once. Now it was a reminder of what he had done–what he had hidden from everyone. We exchanged hollow promises of seeing each other next year. It was the first time I had spoken to him in three months. It would be one of the last.

That semester–pretending to be normal, going through the motions of a life turned on its head–was one of the worst of my life.

I pledge my life and honor to Saren and all her dominions: my body to shield her people, my arm to strike down her enemies.

I shall carry out the will of the Royal Line with all of my strength, defending their lives above my own.

I shall fight with honor upon the battlefield, holding the protection of the defenseless as the highest ideal.

I shall not falter in the execution of my duty to my land and my liege, nor in the upholding of my sworn word, in peace as well as in war.

I shall hold to these vows until my last breath. Should I be called to give my life in their service, I shall do so without hesitation.

Thus do I vow, before heaven and earth.

Short and sweet today. As I’ve mentioned before, I have a bad habit of working backwards, even when I’m working forwards. The beginning of the story initially known as The Knights’ Tale (the current working title is Crown and Blade) has moved further and further back–from just after Miri was ambushed, to just before that, to just before the invasion, to considerably before the invasion, until finally I ended up at the knighting ceremony for Perin’s subordinates and needed some vows to put in there. Thus, these.

I read a lot of books. Like, a lot. That said, it should come as no surprise to anyone that I enjoy many of the books that I read, and would like nothing more than to share that joy with others. Throughout my journey through the world of fantasy and sci-fi novels, I’ve encountered a multitude of authors whose works I frequently return two. Here are seven of them.

7. John FlanaganNoted for: Ranger’s Apprentice

Okay, so Ranger’s Apprentice is basically fantasy lite. It’s YA fiction and makes no effort of hiding that, but it also does a great job of telling a story. The characters are likable, the plots are interesting, and the hero fights with his wits more often than he does with his weapons. The conflicts aren’t typical fantasy fare either, tending more towards small personal struggles rather than epic battles. As YA novels often are, they’re quite easy to read through in one sitting. On a good day, I could get through two or three.

6. Mercedes LackeyNoted for: The Heralds of Valdemar

Lackey’s pacing seems slow from an outside perspective, but when you’ve buried yourself in one of her novels it’s hard to notice. She’s very good at gradually developing the characters and plots until you’re totally immersed. It’s sort of like being sucked into quicksand, but much more soothing and less potentially deadly. Her world-building is also incredibly entertaining–everything from protocol-obsessed, tea-drinking elven knights (The Obsidian Trilogy) to a fantasy-genre reconstruction of the wars between Egypt’s Upper and Lower Kingdoms (The Dragon Jousters). She’s also incredibly prolific, so finding one of her many trilogies shouldn’t pose too much of a problem. Continue reading →

Ambrose turned the final page of the last book in his library, and began preparing for his death.

The other rooms of the manor may have been thick with dust, but the library was as immaculate as it had been when Sarah had lived there. The books were hers, or had been hers–gifts for her ailing father, brought back from her many travels. It had taken him a long time to read through all of them. He’d lost track of exactly how long. Years, at the very least, and Sarah had been gone for most of them.

He had found her outside the manor one rainy night, curled up under the balcony, her small body racked by quiet sobbing. All she had wanted was a dry place to sleep for the night. She had been terrified when she saw him: a tall man in fine clothing, skin pale from lack of sunlight, a confused expression on his face. When he saw her, he had felt pity. An orphan, cast out like trash, with nobody to care for her. He would change that. Continue reading →

Nothing too major this Sunday. I’ve spent the week pulling multiple overtime shifts, struggling with a late-summer cold, and attending a Renaissance Faire, so I didn’t have time to delve into lengthy analyses. Instead, here’s a round-off of my top ten most played songs!

The only song in my top ten that I can sing along to, incidentally. It’s possible that the number of plays on this may have been artificially inflated, since I played it on repeat for hours at a time while I was working on an a cappella arrangement. Even so, that’s a testimonial to how much I enjoy this song.

I could technically sing along to this one, if I spoke Mandalorian. I really like the sound that Harlin uses in his soundtrack: it maintains a similar feeling to John Williams’ Star Wars soundtrack while adding some unique flavor of its own–battle chants, didgeridoo, and so forth. The whole soundtrack is excellent, but this track is my favorite.

No surprises here, seeing as I’ve already linked to this one from a prior blog entry. It’s a combination of the song itself and the context in which it appears–only twice in the entire series, but very effective in both cases.

Another rare song–this one only shows up once, as I remember. The rhythmic energy (an 6/8 meter that alternates emphasizing 3 and 2) creates a great battle theme, even if it isn’t utilized much. An arrangement of this theme also appears in Kalafina’s end theme, Manten, which appears in two episodes of the second half of the series.

Asuna’s battle them from Sword Art Online. She’s my favorite character in the series, so it’s no surprise that her theme is my favorite as well. I especially enjoy the mix of vocals and strings–that particular instrumentation seems to be a hallmark of Kaijura’s scores.

Despite the fact that the location was basically just a waypoint between quests in the game proper, I always spent an inordinate amount of time hanging around in the valley, just to listen to the music.

I picked up Morrowind for five British pounds while visiting a discount electronics store in Harrod’s. It was one of the cheapest games I’ve bought a physical copy of, and also one of the games that I’ve spent the most time on. Booting up the game and hearing this on the main menu still gives me happy memories. Plus, the orchestration is neat foreshadowing for some actual elements of the plot…

This piece plays during some of the most touching conversations of Awakening, and listening to it always makes me feel calm. Whether I’m winding down at the end of a tiring day or repressing irritation, this song always seems to make things better.

Technically, these songs are meant to transition into each other, so I’m not actually cheating that much. Id is Robin’s leitmotif, and many versions of it appear throughout the game, but these are the climax to which all of them build: a triumphant fanfare in tribute to the camaraderie of the allied force. Who says that the accordion can’t be an epic instrument?

The best way to get better at something is to do it, and thus after some deliberation during my 12-hour shifts I’ve decided to commit to two posts a week. My Sunday posts will continue in the same vein as usual–that is, musings and analyses–while Wednesdays will be devoted to original work. Whether that’s poetry, short fiction, or even write-ups of past D&D sessions, I’m going to make an effort to put something up here every Wednesday, along with explanations of my thought processes as I was going about writing it. The material may not necessarily be written on Wednesday alone, but Wednesday shall be the day that it gets posted. Hopefully it makes interesting reading!

This weekend, I had the privilege of being able to see a production of Noel Coward’s comedy Private Lives at the American Players’ Theatre in Spring Green, Wisconsin. For those unfamiliar with Private Lives, the play premiered in 1930 and enjoyed a successful run both in London and Broadway, being revived many times since. Its plot centers around two newlywed couples–Elyot and Sibyl Chase, and Victor and Amanda Prynne. Elyot and Amanda, divorced five years ago and recently remarried, find themselves staying next door to each other on their second honeymoons. The resulting storm of passionate outbursts leads to a series of darkly funny events, which twist up events more and more.

Most of the audience seemed to enjoy the play, and there was plenty of laughter at the repartee between the characters–insults given and taken in equal measure by men and women alike. However, during the second intermission of the play, I overheard a conversation between a woman with the Japanese kanji for “woman” (女, onna) tattooed prominently on her shoulder and a man that I assumed was her husband. She was stating, quite emphatically, that she hated the play. She thought that the play’s portrayal of women was stereotypical, degrading, and otherwise offensive in a thousand different ways, as well as suggesting that her husband was unreasonable for wanting to watch the last act of the play.

This struck me as rather puzzling–not because I thought that the depictions of men and women were unproblematic, but precisely because they were problematic. I’m quite sure that Noel Coward knew, full well, the implications of his writing choices. That’s probably the reason that he made them.

Let’s begin with Victor and Sybil, the “outliers” of the play. Victor is a reflection of almost everything that’s wrong with “traditional masculinity:” controlling, pompous, self-absorbed, and obsessed with upholding his image; expressing Scandalized Horror (TM) at anything that might upset the status quo. Sybil is his counterpart for “traditional femininity:” vapid, weepy, and displaying hysterical mood swings. She frequently refers scornfully to “half-masculine” women like Amanda, and tells Elyot that he is lucky to have escaped her. Both Victor and Sibyl are concerned with reinforcing the traditional roles of both genders (Sibyl’s line “I like a man to be a man, if that’s what you mean” is probably one of the most obvious examples). These two are more of caricatures than characters–comic foils for the main couple.

Noel Coward and Gertrude Lawrence as Elyot and Amanda (Wikipedia)

Elyot and Amanda, on the other hand, are portrayed as practically equivalent: a parallelism that Coward himself encouraged with the above photograph. They are ill-suited for each other, and yet at the same time they are perfectly matched. Both of them seem to be aware of this in their conversations with their second spouses, and the fact that their lines in the opening scene are practically identical despite their differing partners further reinforces their similarities.

Coward dances a fine line around unfortunate implications when portraying the physical aspect of Elyot and Amanda’s fights with each other. There is a certain double standard in many mediums of entertainment that while a man slapping a woman is a shocking action that tends to be played for drama, a woman slapping a man is much more likely to get laughs out of the audience. In the same vein, it’s much more acceptable to imply that a man “deserved” to be slapped by a woman than vice versa. (While I was writing this post, my siblings were watching the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie, and the scene where Captain Jack is slapped by a succession of women didn’t fail to get a chuckle from my brothers. “That one, I deserved.”) There is, of course, a good reason for this: abuse of women is a significant, and quite visible, problem.

Coward’s method of dealing with this, however, is to portray Elyot and Amanda as equals in this as well. When Victor is scandalized by the thought that Elyot struck Amanda during one of their fights, Amanda casually brushes it off with her typical acidic humor: “I struck him too. Once I broke four gramophone records over his head. It was very satisfying.” In other words, she treats Victor’s Scandalized Horror (TM) at her and Elyot being involved in a physical altercation the same way that she treats his Scandalized Horror (TM) at her enjoying sunburn, gambling, and other “masculine” pursuits.

The other point is, of course, that this play is a comedy, and thus relies more on comedic tropes than dramatic ones. The most notable is that of the Unsympathetic Comedy Protagonist, a trope that Amanda and Elyot both embody. Their altercations with each other may be dark comedy, but they are comedy nonetheless, and this trope is the reason why. They are not “good people” who have unfortunate things happen to them: both of them can be petty, mean-spirited, overdramatic, and so forth. Their conflict with each other stems, in major part, from their habitual lack of consideration for any feelings but their own. Neither of them are portrayed as perfect: quite the opposite in fact, as both spend the entire play being called out on their faults by every other character. They are extravagantly, marvelously flawed, and this is what makes them human.

Obviously, my point of view is somewhat limited by my background, so if others have input on the issue, I’d love to hear your own take on it in the comments! Signing off, until next week!